The Gods Have Conspired
by SeveranDynasty
Summary: It's inauguration day and Josh is watching as the candidate he campaigned for is being sworn in as President of the United States. Josh has been in this position 6 times before but there is something different about this candidate, it's almost as if it was meant to be this way from the very start.
1. Prologue

Washington, D.C.

January 2038

Inauguration Day

* * *

A long time ago a friend of mine (though there was nothing amicable about our relationship at the time) told me what sort of man it took to be President.

"The man in that job shouldn't have to be presented with anything!" he bellowed at me. "It's for someone who grabs it and holds on to it, for someone who thinks the gods have conspired to bring him to this place, that destiny demands of him this service!"

Over the years I've had the privilege of helping four brilliant men into the Oval Office, three of which didn't have that particular something, this hubris, that my friend was describing.

At the time that my friend shouted those words at me I had been trying to get a candidate into office. He was the second man I had helped campaign for the office of President and the first man I had personally picked. He was my guy.

This guy was a fighter, in every sense of the word, he even went so far as to fight me on the way the campaign was being run and right candidate or not that created a nightmare and I have no idea what I would have done if my wife hadn't become involved halfway through the campaign. And you know what, the first half of the campaign would have been a lot easier if he had believed (whether it was true or not) that he had been pre-destined to become President, we wouldn't have spent so long pussyfooting around in New Hampshire with him just hoping to shape the debate and me putting everything on the line thinking he was in it to win.

The first candidate I worked for didn't exactly believe that things had been set for him so that he would one day assume the mantle of the Presidency but it helped immensely that he knew he was meant to do big things with the talents he had been given and had cultivated over the years. This guy had to be approached by an old friend, he had to be convinced that this was what he was meant to do with his life, and even when he accepted the words of an old friend it took the campaign longer than anyone would have liked to really pick up steam and a little longer for the candidate to realize that he could actually get into the Oval Office.

My third guy, man was he something, he was such an idealist that it was difficult to believe that he had been involved in politics nearly as long as I had. He could see through all the muck that came with the dirty game of politics and he always held on to the hope that we could make not just little changes but monumental changes. Even with that mind full of ideas and plans for the future he too had to be presented with the notion of a presidential campaign. It was hard- convincing him- it took a whole group of old friends to get him to consider the idea and it wasn't until his wife knocked some sense into him that he allowed me to get things rolling for his campaign.

I can't blame these three men for not having that double-edged sword of hubris, it's a scary thing to wield that kind of pride and arrogance against the gods, or whatever is running this whole show, especially when you don't know what the hell it is these cosmic forces want from you. It's a hell of a lot easier when you think that the gods are taunting you with it, when you think they've laid out a plan for you and they want you to brandish that hubris, they want you to rail against them, to fight them, because in doing so all the pieces will fall into place and you just have to trust in them and hope that you'll manage to do some good before Atë comes (and then hope some more, that you will survive the fall from grace with no more than a bump on the head).

My fourth candidate had everything going for him, all of it, the looks, the brains, the passion, the cocky arrogance, and the crazy idea that his entire life had been leading up to what he is doing today, being sworn in as President.

He couldn't really help being what he was, this was all in his blood, so all he could do was continue to steer himself in the direction he believed he had been made to follow. For a while I thought he was a bit crazy (not that anyone would be too surprised if he was, that was in his blood too after all), I mean I saw his potential from the beginning but I was surprised when I also became convinced that the wheels had been set in motion decades, maybe even centuries, before my final candidate was even born.

Sitting here at the 7th inauguration where I played a part in casting the lead I can say without a doubt that the gods truly have conspired to bring him to this place.

* * *

A/N: Hey, just wanted to let all of you know ahead of time that I will probably be really bad about updating this story. It's a massive multi-chapter fic and I've always had an easier time writing and posting oneshots and smaller pieces. I will however be trying my best to finish this story even if I can't promise regular updates. Also, I am in desperate need of a beta who is willing to be very hands on and involved with this story. If you're interested shoot me a PM. Thanks!

Oh and for extras on this and future chapters head to my livejournal (don't forget to remove the spaces ^_~): severandynasty . livejournal tag/ the%20 gods%20 have%20 conspired


	2. Chapter 1 - An Invitation

Disclaimer: I don't own The West Wing, I wish I did, but I don't.

* * *

Late May 1987

Westport, Connecticut

* * *

Rachel Abravanel felt her bed dip beneath her and she groaned.

"Buenos dias, Rahelica," said someone with a distinctly deep voice.

"Dad," she moaned without making a move to free herself from her cocoon of blankets.

Rachel's father responded with a low chuckle.

"Rahelica, you've been back for almost a week now, don't you think it's time you join the land of the living?" he asked in his slightly accented voice.

"I'm quite comfortable being in the land of the sleeping, Daddy."

"So, you will be sleeping the rest of the day away and won't be joining your mother and I for the party tonight?"

Rachel really wasn't in the mood for parties or even discussions of parties but she decided to humor her father. Rachel rolled over to face him but her eyes remained closed.

"What party?" she mumbled.

"The Lymans are throwing a party, it's Ada's birthday."

Rachel slowly opened her eyes.

"It's Mrs. Lyman's birthday?"

Rachel's father nodded.

"Oh."

"When Ada found out you were back she asked us to bring you along, in fact she insisted, she said it's been far too long since she's seen you."

Rachel liked the Lymans very much, she couldn't help but enjoy Mr. Lyman's sense of humor and Mrs. Lyman's warmth and wit, Rachel loved watching them interact with each other.

Rachel and their son Josh had never been close friends, they could be accurately described as friendly acquaintances, greeting each other when they crossed paths and exchanging pleasantries before drifting off to their own set of friends. It had been about seven years since Rachel had seen Josh Lyman and she had never really spent that much time with him when they had been in high school, it hadn't helped that Josh had been a year ahead of her in school and she hadn't started attending Green Farms Academy until her sophomore year when her family moved from New York to Westport. Apart from bumping into each other on occasion at school Rachel had of course seen Josh a few times at Temple accompanying his Grandfather, Mr. Strauss.

Rachel was fond of Jacob Strauss, it was difficult not to be especially when Mrs. Lyman's father reminded Rachel of her own maternal grandfather, another survivor of the camps with an indomitable spirit. Like their son, Mr. and Mrs. Lyman didn't go to Temple often but Jacob Strauss could always be counted on to be there.

"I guess I should probably get out of bed then and maybe find Mrs. Lyman a gift."

"I think that would be a good idea, Rahelica," Rachel's father said before bending over and giving his daughter a peck on the forehead.

"Dad, I'm getting too old for that," she whined softly, only half meaning it.

An amused smile spread across her father's face.

"You'll never be too old for that, Chiquita," he said as he rose from Rachel's bed and headed out of her room.

* * *

A/N: sorry about this being so short but I'm dealing with writers block and I figured I'd give you a bit of something I HAVE finished while I continue working on this part of the story. I'll be adding additional notes and things for this chapter later this week/early next week so if you'd like extra tidbits and things for this story you can find them at "severan dynasty . live journal . com" (remove the spaces ^_~). Also, thanks to everyone that has either read, reviewed, followed, or any combination of the three, it really means a lot to me and I hope to see/hear more from you!


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